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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23529031">Karma's a Bitch (But Only to Some)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret'>notaguitarfret</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>"They're all girlfriends" AU [28]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy &amp; O'Keefe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/F, First Dates, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Romantic Fluff, Veronica and Duke are useless about feelings and that's okay</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:20:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>15,929</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23529031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/notaguitarfret/pseuds/notaguitarfret</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Veronica finally manages to muster up the courage to ask Heather Duke out, and the two of them get up to quite a bit of mischief. Meanwhile, Heather Chandler is using unhealthy coping mechanisms, as usual.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Heather Chandler/Heather McNamara, Heather Chandler/Heather McNamara/Veronica Sawyer, Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer, Heather Duke/Veronica Sawyer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>"They're all girlfriends" AU [28]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1053590</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>199</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Karma's a Bitch (But Only to Some)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Veronica was impatiently waiting by Heather Chandler’s locker, tapping her foot against the floor and constantly scanning up and down the corridor for any sign of a bright red blazer. Perhaps it was because she had specifically gotten up early this morning to speak to her as soon as possible, and therefore had arrived forty five minutes before the first bell actually rang, but also </span>
  <em>
    <span>where the fuck was she.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d been standing there for about ten minutes, distracting herself occasionally with flicking through her recent diary entries. Specifically last night’s, in which she had decided to practice her flirting skills, pick-up lines, swooning abilities and everything else she could possibly think of. Many of them were crossed out, some having shameful scribbles completely covering up the sentence, but some seemed fairly okay. No matter how many bursts of confidence she gained, though, they were no match for the overwhelming feeling of </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear</span>
  </em>
  <span> of what could come out of this.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It may be good advice, but also, could Heather not have thought of </span>
  </em>
  <span>any other way</span>
  <em>
    <span> to go through with this?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed, slouching against the lockers behind her as the occasional students would walk by, keeping their gazes low as usual. Even now, after months of being part of this clique, students acting as if she were a force that ought to not be reckoned with was still strange to her, especially since she knew that if she had been kicked off the Heathers all those months ago, she would be on the other end of the stick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Like, seriously, what does he want </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do about it? It’s his fault for going to a bar despite knowing he has a shift early next morning.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The sound of Mara’s voice made her turn her head down the corridor, and thankfully, she saw Chandler and McNamara, walking side by side towards her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“At least when I drink on a school night I acknowledge that it’s entirely my fault. He acts like he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>forced</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go to a bar to pick up the first divorcee woman he sees.” Mara’s focus on her rant broke away when she looked ahead, locking eyes with Veronica. “Ronnie! Hi!” She waved enthusiastically and skipped over to her in a manner that filled Veronica with joy purely by proxy. “You’re here early!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She embraced her warmly with a gleeful smile, as if she wasn’t just ranting about her father depending too heavily on alcohol, and Veronica hugged her back, wishing that the hallway was empty so that she could plant a kiss on her forehead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hi, Mara,” she greeted. “And yeah, I got here early today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, any reason why?” She broke off the hug, paying full attention to her. Veronica grimaced.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I… I needed to talk to Heather,” she said glancing at Chandler. “Alone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chandler raised her head, looking as though she had only just caught her attention, before she gave a dismissive huff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no, I think we can let Mac in on your little secret now,” she said, a grin slowly creeping on her lips as she placed her hands on Mara’s shoulders. Veronica looked at her curiously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now? But you said… uh…” She bit back what she was about to say, since Mara was standing right in front of her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I doubt she’ll let anything slip within the next few hours.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” Mara piped up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Huh?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Veronica gaped at Chandler. “A few </span>
  <em>
    <span>hours?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me just get some shit from my locker, we’ll go somewhere more private and discuss,” Chandler said coolly as she opened up her locker to grab some text books from it, the door blocking her from Veronica’s view carelessly, as if she </span>
  <em>
    <span>hadn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> just dropped a big fucking bomb onto her. She scrambled around to her other side.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Isn’t that kind of soon, Heather?” she began. “I thought I’d have at least the weekend to get prepared, and-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And then you’d ask for another day to get ready, then </span>
  <em>
    <span>one more, just one more</span>
  </em>
  <span> because you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>not quite ready yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, then ask for a few days more and a few weeks more and so on and so on, because you fail to realise that the nervousness you’re feeling is never going to go away.” She deadpanned at her. “No matter how much preparation you do, you’re going to feel nervous. It won’t go away until you just </span>
  <em>
    <span>do it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Mara spoke up. “I’m so lost.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ll tell you in a sec,” Chandler told her, placing the last text book in her bag. Just before closing the locker, Veronica caught sight of something she hadn’t noticed before; a row of photos, taken in a photo booth. All of them were herself and Chandler, making various expressions.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>She</span>
  </em>
  <span> kept</span>
  <em>
    <span> that?</span>
  </em>
  <span> She blinked in amazement. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That was ages ago!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Never mind that Veronica had kept hers too; they were stuck to the inner back page of her diary. She just hadn’t expected </span>
  <em>
    <span>Heather</span>
  </em>
  <span> to do anything similar.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, off to somewhere with no one to eavesdrop.” Breaking her out of her thoughts, Chandler gestured them both forward, scooching them away from her locker and down the hallway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They ended up yet again at the darker corner of the school, by the supply closet and rustic steps down to the basement.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what happened yesterday?” Veronica finally asked, still keeping her voice hushed in fear that someone, by some chance, would be listening in to their conversation. “Did you get to talk me up?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I did. I said I would, didn’t I?” Chandler rolled her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What happened? What did she say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait!” Mara cut in. “I still don’t know what’s happening!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chandler turned to her calmly. “Veronica’s crushing real hard on Heather.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, not holding back any punches, huh?” Veronica grunted, watching as Mara’s eyes grew wide.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this because of the kiss?” she asked. Veronica paused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How… did you know about that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather told me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh.” She twiddled her thumbs. “Did… did she say anything about it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mara pursed her lips. “I don’t think she wanted to admit anything, but from what I could gather, I think she liked bits of it. I could be wrong, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica felt her face grow hot at just the thought. Mara wasn’t even certain of it, but there was a chance - a </span>
  <em>
    <span>chance</span>
  </em>
  <span> that Heather had enjoyed kissing her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Meanwhile, Chandler let out a cackle.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well isn’t that good news for you?” she snickered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, why didn’t you tell me?” Mara asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, no offense, Mac, but you’re not very good at keeping secrets,” Chandler said. “You would have let it spill to Heather.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Me? Bad at keeping secrets? Where did you get that idea?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica and Chandler exchanged a deadpan look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gosh, I don’t know, Heather!” Veronica said, tone thick with sarcasm. “It’s not like you let a load of things between </span>
  <em>
    <span>us</span>
  </em>
  <span> slip to each other.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mara stared at the two of them.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In my defense, if I hadn’t, would either of you have tried to communicate with one another about… anything?” She sheepishly smiled. “Veronica, you seriously needed to vent on the night we first slept together.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well… maybe… but-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And Heather, you needed to know that Veronica felt as if you didn’t care about her because you were treating her like a casual hookup.” She gave them both a sly smile. “What I’m trying to say is </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re welcome.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> get cocky!” Chandler said. Mara just shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just putting it out there.” Her sly smile became one that was sheepish. “But back on track. You have a crush on Heather,” she gestured to Veronica, who nodded. “What’s the plan?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The plan,” Chandler cut in, placing her hands on her shoulders, “is that she asks her out </span>
  <em>
    <span>today.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But Heather!” Veronica protested. “That’s so soon!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The sooner the better,” she told her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But what about yesterday? What did she say about me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She said she’s happy to have you in her life again,” she replied. “Yes, that is pretty much what we said. Somehow walking into the woods makes her sound more sappy than usual.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica felt her heart do enthusiastic flips around her chest, and she felt a smile stretching onto her face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She said that?” She placed her hands on her chest earnestly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, now is that enough to convince you to ask her out already?” Chandler sighed. “There’s no use waiting until next year to see if she’ll be your New Years kiss again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But… what do I do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do what you did with me!” Mara said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was different! We were basically already a thing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Veronica.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chandler suddenly gripped her face, turning her head to face her with a stern glare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are going to be anxious. You are going to stutter. You are probably going to fuck this up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica’s face twisted with apprehension.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“None of that matters though,” she continued. “All that matters is that you ask her on a date, and the answer she gives you. If that answer is no, then it’s fine, you already have two girlfriends, don’t be greedy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” Mara griped.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m joking. I’m sure it’ll go well,” Chandler said. “Even if she doesn’t have feelings for you, I’m sure she’ll give you a chance to swoon her. Surely there has to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span> that made us fall for you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean, other than listening to your problems rather than dismissing them, even if it counts as pretty severe trauma?” she said. “Kidding, of course. I’d hope there are more reasons than that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There are, and hopefully those qualities will shine through when you ask her out in just a few hours.” Chandler grinned. “Now isn’t that exciting?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, that’s very nerve wracking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll be fine. Mac and I will cheer you on from a distance, how about that?” She hooked an arm around Mara and pulled her close, while Mara nodded while offering a supportive smile.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… alright. I just hope I’ll know what to say.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Do</span>
  </em>
  <span> you know what to say?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhh…” She opened up her diary and flicked to the pages she had been writing on last night. “I have some ideas?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chandler raised a brow in suspicion, walking over to her to peek into her diary. Feeling very judged as her eyes scanned the many notes she had made, Veronica slowly moved the diary away from Chandler’s view, praying she wouldn’t begin tearing them to pieces.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll be fine,” Chandler said, patting her shoulder. “Just go up to her, ask her if she’s free any time soon, and hey, the worst thing she can do is say no. You two are good friends, right?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d like to think so.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wrong answer. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>are;</span>
  </em>
  <span> no ‘acquaintances’ casually make out with one another and then not let it bother them. If </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> didn’t shake your friendship, neither will this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A reassured smile stretched across Veronica’s face, a sudden burst of confidence acting as a strong motivator to turn around and find Heather right then and there. Though, she didn’t do that. Instead, she embraced Chandler into a tight hug, sneaking a kiss on a particularly sensitive part of her neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you, Heather,” she murmured. “That… makes me feel a lot better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” A pat on her back. “You’re welcome, Sawyer.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Also, I want to be there to see Heather’s answer!” Mara chimed in. “When are you going to ask her?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica parted from her and Chandler’s hug and hummed in thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh… I’d say lunch, but she might go straight to the cafeteria, and I obviously can’t do it with a bunch of other people around.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, idea!” Mara bounced with excitement. “I’ll tell her to meet me at the beginning of lunch - here, maybe? Where no one can eavesdrop. Then you can just find her and ask! Heather and I will be in earshot, I assume?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, absolutely. I’m watching every moment of this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica smiled gratefully at Mara. “I think that would work very well, thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She watched Chandler and Mara exchange a look of intrigue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well then. See you then, bluebird.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica raised a brow at Chandler, a fluttering sensation in her chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Did you just call me ‘bluebird?’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chandler bit her lip sheepishly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It slipped. But… yes.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay, Veronica. Be casual. Be cool. You can do this.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She peaked around the corner, and sure enough, Mara had kept her promise, and her plan had worked. Duke was standing not too far from the supply closet, leaning against the wall and flicking through Moby Dick. While Veronica was very much in view of her, she was so entranced by her book that she hadn’t even looked up to notice her. A good thing, too, since she was hovering by the corner like an idiot. And no, Chandler and Mara silently gesturing her to get the fuck on with it from the other corner, standing out of Duke’s view, was not helping.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Finally, though, she took a deep breath. No one was around but them. It’s like Heather said, it’s best to do it now. Now or never.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Hey, Heather!” she spoke up, acting as though she had only just stumbled across her by pure chance. Duke glanced up from her book at last.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, hi, Veronica,” she said. “Have you said Emmy anywhere? She told me to meet her here for… something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, sorry,” she lied, sauntering closer to her. Her heart was racing, slamming against her chest with each beat. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t have her inhaler in her pocket, fully expecting her body to panic enough that her airways would close up. “Though, I’m glad I bumped into you. I… I need to ask you something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Duke, having returned her attention to her book, just gave a nod, oblivious to what was about to come. “Mhmm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica desperately tried to catch her eye, the idea of asking her on a date when she wasn’t even looking at her feeling disingenuous.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhh… you see…” She started to fumble with her words, and clearly Chandler and Mara noticed, since they both peaked around</span>
  <span> the corner and made vague ‘calm down’ gestures. Chandler then made another gesture for her to keep going. Giving a subtle nod to her, she took another deep breath.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“When are you next free?” she asked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh… tonight, as far as I’m aware. We haven’t been invited anywhere.” She still didn’t look up, flicking through another page. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Another glance at Chandler, and she saw her giving a thumbs up. As in, </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s good, do tonight.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I was thinking… do you… um…” She cleared her throat, and it was then that Duke’s eyes slowly raised from her book to look at her, slightly concerned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it?” She arched a brow. Veronica swallowed thickly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Just spit it out!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you want to go out sometime?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Though she didn’t let out a big sigh of relief, she absolutely felt a weight lift from her chest. Though that feeling was soon replaced with the anticipation and anxiety she felt in the time that Duke took to reply. It was only a few seconds, but it seemed to stretch on for </span>
  <em>
    <span>ages</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. Sure,” she simply said, looking back down at her book. “We can do tonight if you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her tone was just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>little</span>
  </em>
  <span> too relaxed for Veronica to be convinced that she understood what she was getting at. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she looked back around the corner to see Chandler glaring at Duke and very clearly mouthing,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“YOU ARE SO FUCKING OBLIVIOUS.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mara glanced at Chandler with concern, making some swift hand gestures to her. Chandler did the same in return in a frustrated manner, and while Veronica didn’t understand any sign language, she could at least tell that the two of them wanted to yell at Duke to clarify what Veronica meant.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grimacing, Veronica worked up the courage to speak again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think you missed what I was saying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Duke glanced up at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Missed what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not just asking you to hang,” she said slowly, twiddling her thumbs in a very nervous manner. “I’m asking you… </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span>, out. Like, just us? On…” She gulped. “On a date. I’m asking you on a date.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The penny finally dropped, and Duke stared at her, slack-jawed and large, rounded eyes. If time slowed down before, it completely stopped now. She stood completely still, staring at Duke as she stared back, waiting for an answer as patiently as she could, no matter how incredibly impatient she was. Occasionally, she’d be teased with the slight twitch of Duke’s jaw, thinking that she might get her answer, only to be met with silence. It was beginning to </span>
  <em>
    <span>kill</span>
  </em>
  <span> her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You… want to go out with me?” Duke eventually said, flabbergasted. Veronica let out an amused huff.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sound shocked.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… yeah.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t see why. You’re a Heather, surely you’re used to this sort of thing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, I guess, but I always knew there was always a particular thing they were looking for.” She closed her book and tucked it under her arm. “So I guess… no. I’m not used to it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica gingerly smiled. “Well… the only thing I’m looking for is a night out, possible romantic feelings being exchanged… a kiss would be nice, but is entirely optional.” She cleared her throat. “It’s all optional. If you want to say no, you can, I just… I thought I should ask. I’m ready to accept whatever answer you give me, and if it’s no, we can just move past this and forget it ever happe-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked. “Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll go out with you.” Duke smiled. It was… softer than usual.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You will?” Joy threatened to burst through Veronica’s chest, and she swallowed back a loud, triumphant squeal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. Tonight sound good?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes!” she exclaimed. “I mean… yeah. Yeah, that sounds good. Where do you wanna go?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Duke looked thoughtful for a moment. “Hmm… Not sure. We’ll figure something out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah! We will.” She had to stop herself from giggling like an idiot, and luckily for her, their conversation was interrupted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, I should have gone for ‘yes’,” Chandler muttered, stepping out from around the corner with Mara. Duke stared at them both, bewildered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Were you both there the whole time?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep,” Mara said. “I didn’t actually need anything, I was just helping Veronica get a moment alone with you.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were all in on this?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes. I take most of the credit,” Chandler said. “But Mac called dibs on betting that you’d say yes, and now I’ve lost thirty dollars.” She flipped Duke off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I guess,” Duke said sarcastically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, because I’m happy for you both. Have fun later.” She sneaked a suggestive wink to Veronica, and as much as she wanted to laugh it off, she couldn’t help but feel a little on edge from Chandler’s implications. It wasn’t really her fault; as far as she was aware, she wasn’t aware of Duke’s asexuality, but she desperately hoped the first question she asks after their date wouldn’t be ‘so how good was it?’</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>But nevermind that. Heather had said </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She’s actually said </span>
  <em>
    <span>yes.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She was going on a date with Heather! </span>
  <em>
    <span>Tonight!</span>
  </em>
  <span> What exactly they were doing, she wasn’t quite sure yet, but like she cared what they were going to do. All that mattered was that she was going on a date with her, and oh, she was getting giddy just thinking about it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glancing at her swatch real quick, she felt the urge to push the little hands away from the twelve and towards the three. If only she could fast forward time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Only three hours to go,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought, jittering with excitement. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Three hours. That’s it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> think she’d say no,” Chandler commented as the group weaved through the tables in the cafeteria. Duke and Veronica were busy in their own little conversation behind them, huddled close together, while Mac stood by her side. “I was pretty damn sure she was going to say yes. I talked her up, after all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did. You’re a very helpful girlfriend, and I’m sure she really appreciates it.” She glanced behind her and smiled fondly. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this giddy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s the hype before the date,” Chandler said. “I think she’s just really excited for it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What do you think they’ll do? Dinner, maybe?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather shrugged. “Who knows. I’m sure we’ll hear every detail when they get back though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Just as she finished talking, the group closed in on the unusually crowded preppy kid table. Curious, she observed the current residents of said table, and noticed that it had been overpopulated by a fair select members of other cliques. Amongst them was Courtney, who seemed to be leading the conversation. Ashley sat by her side, laughing at… something, while everyone else was focused on something on the table that was out of Heather’s view.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Slowing down as she passed the table, she listened in,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>disgusting</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” a girl gagged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wait, I can’t see, let me see!” another girl said. Nothing yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And this all happened at Remington University?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chandler stopped in her tracks. Ignoring the uneasy feeling those words gave her, her interest was indeed piqued. Holding out a hand in front of her group to stop them in their tracks, she closed in on the table, picking up on more of their conversation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, during the New Years Eve party,” she heard Ashley speak up. “There’s rumour he wasn’t the only one, but this is the main piece of evidence we have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I ever go to Remington, I wanna know who this guy is so I can avoid the hell out of him,” a girl commented.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, my ex knows him,” Courtney said. “His name’s David. Don’t remember his last name though, I’m afraid.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A churning discomfort erupted in Chandler’s gut, and she considered moving away from the conversation. And yet… she couldn’t help but stay, curious as to what exactly was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>funny</span>
  </em>
  <span> about him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s fine, that’s a pretty recognisable face.” A girl in a cheerleader outfit pointed to the centre of the table, and that’s when Heather finally spoke up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, not to barge in or anything,” she said slyly, stepping closer to the circle. “But I’m curious as to what this </span>
  <em>
    <span>gossip</span>
  </em>
  <span> is.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All heads turned towards her in surprise, and the girls sitting closest to where she stood shifted to the side, parting from one another as if Heather pushed them herself. She’d never get tired of that feeling of power.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, Heather, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>have</span>
  </em>
  <span> to see this.” Courtney’s eyed lit up when she saw her. It was strange, really. One moment Courtney would sneer at her from across the room, before being put in her place. The next, she’d be kissing her ass and telling her exactly what she needed to hear. An odd relationship to be sure, but one she was strangely fine with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“See what?” She leaned over the table, on hand on the surface, trying to get a view at what everyone was looking at.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Check out this polaroid someone took at the New Years Remington party,” she said with a snicker, pushing a small, singular photo across the table. She picked it up and stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out what the image was. It was blurry and discoloured, with terrible lighting. But the more she looked, she could recognise the very face she would </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> to punch and kick until it was unrecognisable. And while her face twisted in disgust at the sight, it soon melted into one of amusement when she saw some extra… </span>
  <em>
    <span>details</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Where did you get this?” she questioned with a smirk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have connections,” Courtney said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Having forgotten her friends would have been looming behind her like a dark cloud, she turned around and showed it to Mac, who was on her tiptoes trying to get a view. One look at the photo, and she burst into fits of giggles.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>gross</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she laughed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is?” Veronica asked. Chandler handed her and Duke the photo, and the two of them both laughed particularly, with Duke covering her mouth in disgust.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He shit himself?” she gasped, the innocence in her tone only sounding fake to anyone who </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “And someone caught it on camera?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, isn’t it great?” Courtney said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please tell me everyone in that university knows him as the guy who shit himself,” Chandler said hopefully. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Not the most perfect revenge, but I’ll take it.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, and that’s the thing!” Courtney said. “The guy who took this knows him - not well or anything, but he helped him with his workload one time, so he doesn’t wanna do him dirty? But I mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>come on.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She gestured to the photo. “How could one </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> share that?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chandler scowled bitterly. “Yeah. How can one not?” It was hard to hide her disappointment that his reputation at Remington had remained untouched, in spite of such a </span>
  <em>
    <span>glorious</span>
  </em>
  <span> opportunity to trample it into the ground, while she had remained paranoid that abandoning Remington parties </span>
  <em>
    <span>because</span>
  </em>
  <span> people like him would completely annihilate her. How fucking unfair.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm…” A hum from Duke behind her caught her attention. “Courtney, would you mind if I borrowed this for a moment? I’ll bring it right back - or at least, when I next see you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So long as you return it, I suppose.” She shrugged. “Not sure why you’d want it, though.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, me neither.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She gazed at her curiously, but nothing in her expression gave much away, other than something </span>
  <em>
    <span>scheming</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, don’t you worry about it,” Duke said with a sly smile, slipping the photo into her pocket. “Veronica, you’re coming with me.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?” Veronica blinked in surprise when Duke grabbed her arm. “Oh, okay, I guess.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>With that, the pair was scurrying off, abandoning herself and Mac in the cafeteria for some unknown reason. Giving a confused look to Mac, and then to Courtney, she shrugged it off and continued walking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was sure she’d find out what Heather was doing later.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>This</span>
  </em>
  <span> is what you use your mimeograph privileges for, huh?” Veronica commented, flicking through the many, </span>
  <em>
    <span>many</span>
  </em>
  <span> copies of that really gross, yet painfully funny polaroid. While she by no means enjoyed looking at the massive shitstain on David’s ass, she couldn’t deny that she loved just how humiliating it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s for a good cause,” Duke said, gazing out of her car window, towards the building ahead. It was calculating, scheming. She hasn’t even told Veronica the whole plan yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Speaking of which.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what exactly is the plan here?” she asked. “Assuming you have one.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I have one.” Duke pulled out the roll of sticky tape that she had bought on the way here. “It’s pretty simple. Stick as many of these photos on every dorm door you see, keep doing it until you don’t have any left.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re acting like this is going to be easy. You don’t think people will get suspicious when two eighteen year old girls from Westerburg show up at their dorms?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They’ll assume we’re there for our college boyfriends. Besides,” she turned to smirk at her, “the thrill makes this fun, doesn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica snorted with amusement. “I guess you could say that."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She gazed at her for a moment longer. They had both chosen to wear similar clothes that they had worn on their heist, not their black clothes would help them stay hidden in a well-lit dorm. She had simply said to Heather that wearing all black had a cool effect, and also, Heather looked </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> nice in her dark green shirt tucked into her black jeans that complimented her curves beautifully. Oh, and her eyeliner being ever so slightly thicker was also a treat. So </span>
  <em>
    <span>piercing</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You think it’s safe to go in?” Veronica asked, forcing herself to tear her gaze away and look back at the university in question. Ever time she saw it, she could feel a sense of anger and vengefulness pool in her stomach, and as much as she was uncertain this plan would work, she couldn’t deny so desperately wanting revenge. Not for her, but for her two girlfriends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think so,” Duke said, glancing at her swatch. “It’s not that late, but university students will be busy studying or catching up on sleep. And like I said, we really won’t look that out of place.” She opened the door. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica fumbled with her own door and followed Heather up the hill with their materials in her bag, growing closer to the dorms for what may be the last time - thank God. She hardly got through two Remington parties, nevermind the amount the Heathers put up with.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know, I quite like your idea for a ‘date’,” Veronica said as they made their way up to the door. Duke glimpsed at her cheekily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve never fantasised about your average dinner date. They seem a little too cliched to me. What’s wrong with causing a bit of commotion on this very romantic evening?” She laughed as she opened up the door. “Now, even though no one will suspect anything, it’s best to keep a low profile.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Walking into the building was… very strange. Having no sleazy frat boys greet her at the door, or any music playing, or the choking scent of alcohol, weed and cigarettes slap her in the face as a warm welcome was a surreal experience. Instead, she was met with what the university </span>
  <em>
    <span>actually</span>
  </em>
  <span> looked like; a lounge on the bottom floor, where a few students were sat, buried in textbooks. Few looked up as they walked past, but the ones that did paid them no mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Going up the stairs to the dorms was yet another unusual experience. Last time Veronica had done this, she’d been terrified. Terrified of what may have happened to Chandler, what might have been done to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Doing so only made her want to get on with this devious plan all the more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now, where to start?” Heather stopped at the top of the stairs, scanning the corridors with a narrow gaze. “Should we work from the bottom up, or top to bottom?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Top to bottom may be better,” Veronica suggested. “It means an easy escape.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good point.” Heather grabbed her hand, making her breath hitch. As she was dragged up a few floors, she allowed her fingers to wrap around Heather’s hand. It was small, she noticed. Small and cute, like her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Now,” Heather spoke once they reached the floor. “Do you want to split up and meet back here, or should we stick together?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stick together,” Veronica immediately said. Heather rolled her eyes, amused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you’d say that.” She then reached into Veronica’s bag and handed her the tape, while she took hold of half the copies of the photo. “Now, you hand me the sticky tape and I’ll place these things on the doors.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica nodded, and they both began. Their movements were swift, with Veronica biting off pieces of the tape off with her teeth, while Heather slammed the photos on the doors with ease. They side-stepped to the next one, and then the next, both holding back their snickers at the realisation that their little revenge plot was beginning to work. The hallways may be quiet, with no one around to see what they had done quite yet, but knowing that they could at any minute was making it very difficult for both of them to not break the silence.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t your teeth hurt?” Heather eventually asked after maybe ten doors. Veronica shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They feel weird, but it’s not painful. Don’t worry.” She snapped another piece and handed it to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re almost done with this floor,” Heather said as she stuck the photo onto the door. “Besides, we don’t need to do every door. Just enough so that they’re unavoidable. Everyone will know about this.” She grinned deviously. “Best case scenario, he can’t take the heat and leaves the fucking state.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That </span>
  <em>
    <span>would</span>
  </em>
  <span> be a great outcome,” Veronica agreed. They walked down the hallway for a little bit, with no dorm room doors ahead for a few more steps. As they slowly made their way through, Veronica spoke up,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So what exactly made you want to do this?” She walked a little closer to her, arms brushing as they swung forward and back. “Are you just one to start mischief?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Duke hummed curiously. “I suppose I am, but I usually don’t put in so much effort to do so.” She looked behind her, back at the photos she had already put up. “This isn’t really just a night of fun for me. This is more for Heather and Heather than anything else.” She looked back at her. “Not that I’m not having fun - I definitely am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica chuckled warmly. “So am I.” Her smile then soured. “And… yeah. Me too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A moment of silence fell on them, before Duke sharply inhaled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were really willing to commit murder that night, weren’t you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I was,” Veronica sneered. “He hurt my two girlfriends. He deserved it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not about to deny that,” Heather laughed. “But there were loads of people on the ground. Too many witnesses who could send you to jail.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Pfffft.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Veronica blew it off dismissively. “I’m sure I could make a run for it. Maybe live the rest of my life in an abandoned cabin in the woods.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, but then we’d miss you a lot.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Her heart swelled, and she smiled.</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I’d miss you all a bit too much,” she said. Heather snickered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cute.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You can’t just </span>
  </em>
  <span>say</span>
  <em>
    <span> that,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Veronica thought, giggling to herself giddily. </span>
  <em>
    <span>But you should definitely say that.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon enough, all the doors on the floor were covered, so they made their way down to the floor below and started all over again. Heather had been right when she had said no students would be around; she hadn’t seen anyone come out of their dorm room the whole time she had been there. Granted, she could hear some chatter through some of the walls, but she imagined none of them were going to come out any time soon, unless they needed to grab something from the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That is, until a few doors down, when from ahead of them, just around the corner, they heard a door click. Knowing they’d be caught </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> red-handed, tape and photos in their possession and all. Panicking, they both exchanged an alerted look.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That way,” Duke whispered harshly, pushing Veronica back down the corridor, where they had just come. Heather grabbed her hand again - something Veronica was still not over - and she found herself being dragged into a kitchen, which was thankfully empty. They kept the lights off, so only a little light from outside seeped through the small windows above the sink and counters, creating a grey outline over the furniture, along with Heather herself. Similar to how she had looked back in the woods, the faint rim around her figure was ghostly, yet entrancing as ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was close,” Heather mumbled, standing close to the door to listen out for any more noise. Veronica nodded.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she agreed. “But hey, if we do end up being caught, it’s not the end of the world. At least </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone</span>
  </em>
  <span> will find one of those photos. They can’t get rid of all of them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather remained stiff, still staring at the door. Veronica frowned.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather, honestly, it’s fine. The worst they can do is throw them all out and kick us off the premises.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather tensed up even more.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I can’t let that happen.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She sighed. “Veronica, I… I know what we’re doing is stupid and immature, but I seriously want it to </span>
  <em>
    <span>work</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well… me too. It’ll be hilarious.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s the least I can do.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raised a brow. “Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather finally turned away from the door and looked up at her with a clouded gaze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Something’s been bothering me ever since Heather told me about… what happened.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica grew a little sick at the mention. “I think it’s normal for it to bother you, Heather.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, not just that. Of course I’ve been angry and wanted sweet, sweet revenge… but I also feel guilty.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Guilty?” she echoed. “Why? You had nothing to do with it.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather chewed on her lip. “No… but the more I think about it… I think I was there. As in, I saw her the night it happened. I think.” She ran her fingers through her hair, ruffling her smooth black curls. “I don’t know, it makes sense.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You did?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I used to be her ride home,” she murmured regrettably. “I would have taken her home on the night it happened. And… I remember one time, she was just completely out of it.” Her eyes grew glassy. “I thought she had too much to drink. But she just didn’t talk to me. Usually, drunk or not, she would ramble on and on about how </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span> the party was and how Heather and I </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> to go… but that time she didn’t.” Her gaze was remorseful. “I thought it was odd, but I didn’t catch on. But now that I know what it could have been… I just feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>sick</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica offered a sympathetic look. “Oh… Heather, it wasn’t like she was going to tell you,” she said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “You can’t expect yourself to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> these things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But out of anyone, </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> should be the one who catches on!” She shook her hand off and grunted frustratedly. “I know what it’s like to be violated. I know how it feels. But I guess I was too focused on holding a grudge against her to be there for her.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica had to take a moment to process everything she just said. Slowly, she managed to work out a reply,</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sorry that you know how that feels… I really wish you didn’t.” And God, the more she thought about it, the more she felt sorry for her. Thinking back to every time she ran off with a guy at a party or otherwise… she realised how any and every sort of sexual arousement would have been completely absent. She couldn’t imagine what it must have felt like.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s whatever.” She shrugged. “I’m not traumatised by them. They were just incredibly uncomfortable.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s still horrible, traumatised or not.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather didn’t respond, so Veronica pushed forward.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But please don’t blame yourself for not being able to pick up on signs that were never obvious to begin with.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You didn’t know her back then. How do you know how </span>
  <em>
    <span>obvious</span>
  </em>
  <span> they were?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because not even Heather herself knew what happened, Heather!” she whisper-yelled. “I had to be the one to tell her - over a </span>
  <em>
    <span>year later</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You can’t say you should have known to be there for her when even she wouldn’t have thought she needed any sort of support.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather’s eyes flickered, filled with confliction, before she finally released a sigh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I guess,” she muttered. “I think I’m just paranoid that I let my anger towards her in the past make my blind to what could have been right in front of me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well then, perhaps she shouldn’t have been mean to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, no, she shouldn’t have.” She glanced back at the door. “But I still want to make up for it. I’m doing this for her.” She huffed. “And Emmy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you’re doing a great job. If we were doing this to someone who didn’t deserve it, this would be </span>
  <em>
    <span>evil</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” she cackled. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good, that’s the idea,” Heather sneered. “Use evils from high school to fight evils from college.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica let a smile stretch across her face. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate it, Heather. I know I do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather glanced back at her and waved dismissively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s nothing.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Trust me, to her it won’t be.” She caressed her arm. “You’re a really good friend, Heather.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather’s lips curled upwards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah,” she murmured. “I am.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica snorted with amusement, as did Heather, before they both fell silent again, listening out for any sounds outside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think we’re good,” Heather whispered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, I don’t hear a thing.” Veronica looked across the room. “Though, before we leave, I got a good idea.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What is it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grinning, she walked over to the fridge and opened it up, grabbed a few of the photos and proceeded to stick them on various things, such as milk bottles, condiments and tupperware. The whole time Heather giggled, making it difficult for Veronica to stop smiling.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad you find this funny,” she commented, shutting the fridge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s one way to put them off their food.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good. People are more likely to complain about it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Heather cupped her chin in thought. “That gives me a pretty good idea for the next floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They decided to not continue with the rest of the doors on their current floor, as they were already going to get a surprise in their kitchen. Instead, they went straight down to the next floor - the final floor in this building - and went straight into the kitchen. They proceeded to stick the rest of the photos everywhere; inside and outside of cabinets, in the fridge, next to fridge magnets, on the door, in the sink… the list goes on. Somehow, Veronica found sticking each photo on a surface especially satisfying. Perhaps it was due to having already walked on this floor before, last time having been full of fear and anger for Heather. It was like the ultimate comeback for her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon enough, they’d covered pretty much everything, and Veronica settled on the counter, satisfied with their work.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That was too many stairs,” Heather groaned, hopping onto the space next to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, at least we can finally get the fuck out of here,” Veronica sighed, slumping against the tiled wall behind her. “And never come back.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm, I am kind of disappointed we won’t get to see the chaos ensue for ourselves,” Heather said, frowning, “but hey, we’ll for sure hear about it back at Westerburg. It’ll spread like wildfire.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I sure hope so.” She looked at Heather and smiled. “This was a lot of fun, by the way.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad you thought so.” She nudged her arm with her elbow in a friendly manner. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How sweet.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The cutest little blush appeared on her cheeks. She pouted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Uh-huh.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica snickered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s your deal with being called ‘sweet’? Does it bother you that much?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! It doesn’t bother me. I’m just… not used to it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I say don’t get used to it. You’re pretty cute when you get all flustered.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not getting flustered!” she barked. “And even if I was, it’s nothing compared to you earlier today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Clearly it wasn’t enough for you to realise I was asking you out,” Veronica said. Heather opened her mouth to retort, but nothing left her lips.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Hm. I remember what your lips felt like.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She hardly noticed herself staring.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, you asking me out was the last thing I expected to happen, so of course I didn’t realise what you meant,” Heather continued. Veronica hardly heard her, instead finding herself entranced with just the sigh of her, despite the little light seeping through the frosted glass of the kitchen revealing less than she’d like. It reminded her of when they were back at the woods… little lighting, yet still enthralling as ever.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It could be more enthralling,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I ask you something?” she asked. Heather nodded. “Well… since we’re already on a date…” She rubbed the back of her neck. “Did you enjoy our kiss?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather paused for a moment, eyes widening a little. Her lips were apart, like she was trying to think of something to say. Veronica couldn’t tell if she was flustered, or simply embarrassed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“To be blunt, for the most part, it was pretty neutral?” she said in a quiet voice. Veronica’s brow raised in intrigue.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For the </span>
  <em>
    <span>most</span>
  </em>
  <span> part?” The corner of her mouth perked up. “What was the rest of it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Absolutely disgusting, made me gag, let’s never do it again.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica gasped dramatically.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve </span>
  <em>
    <span>wounded</span>
  </em>
  <span> me and my kissing confidence,” she cried, hands on her chest. “And here I was hoping we could do it again… but if </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s</span>
  </em>
  <span> how you feel…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hm, perhaps I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself.”  Heather grabbed her wrist and tugged her a little closer. She held a smirk, one that wasn’t entirely confident, she could tell by the slight nervous twitching, but genuine, nonetheless. Veronica could only smirk back, feeling pretty cocky herself. At least </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> of her pick-up lines worked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll do my best,” she murmured, looming ever so closer. The fact that Heather seemed to stiffen up a little as she leaned towards her, blinking her eyes shut in an awkward manner, was surprising. Veronica had never expected any of the Heathers to find this kind of thing to be outside of their comfort zone, or something to be nervous about, though she probably should have expected that with Heather after their talk the other day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica too closed her eyes, waiting for soft lips to come into contact with her own. Admittedly, her leg was bouncing with anxiety, but when she finally felt the gap between them close, she relaxed entirely, melting into the very thing she’d been thinking about for days. It was just as good - if not </span>
  <em>
    <span>better</span>
  </em>
  <span> than she remembered, perhaps because this time it wasn’t just for some sort of experimentation.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The kiss started out soft, just like last time. Veronica found herself taking the reins, having one hand cupping her face, another resting on her hip. Her movements were gentle and slow, still unsure as to what her boundaries were. She pressed herself up against her, Heather’s thigh warm against her own, and Heather deepened the kiss a little, a soft sigh escaping her mouth.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unlike with Chandler or Mara, Veronica didn’t find herself hungrily searching for more. This time, it felt a lot more… sensual. There were two hands on her, one around her back and another on her lower thigh. There weren’t any groans, seductive whispers or fingers slipping under clothing, just a sense of closeness. It was nice. Pleasant. Veronica felt herself smiling rather than having a wanton smirk. The hand cupping Heather’s face brushed some of her hair behind her ear, and she broke the kiss. Heather’s eyes fluttered open, clouded and a little dazed, while Veronica wordlessly planted kisses on her cheek, before slowly moving down to her neck.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is this okay?” she whispered. Heather hummed her approval, cupping the back of her head as she moved closer. Veronica trailed kisses down her neck, moving slowly. Occasionally she would lightly nip at the skin to make it interesting, but for the most part, she enjoyed feeling Heather’s tense muscles relax under her sweet touch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then she was shoved off in a violent gesture. Before she could question what she did wrong, she got a dreadful answer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The door was opening.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Panicked, the two of them scrambled apart, about to dash for the darkest corner of the room, to hide, perhaps with a chance of sneaking behind the person and making their escape, but it was hopeless. They hadn’t even jumped off the counter before the newcomer stepped into the room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His eyes locked with Veronica’s first.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then he looked at Heather.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh,” Heather grunted, wiping the side of her neck with her palm. “Just our fucking luck.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Without realising it, they both shifted closer to one another.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nice to see you again, David.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Over here! Kick it here!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather felt uneasy watching the soccer game play out before her. It was a simple practice after school, one that she’d agreed to sit through purely to spend more time with Mac. For the most part, her eyes had been glued to just her girlfriend, but occasionally they’d wander to the other guys, especially when they would run in her direction. She knew she was ridiculous to flinch and to freeze up - they were chasing after the </span>
  <em>
    <span>ball</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not her. And yet, the sight of them charging towards her was almost enough for her reflexes to kick in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You seem tense.” Next to her, Garrett spoke up. He’d tried making small talk with her this whole time, and every time she had shot him down. “You sure you don’t need any help winding down a lil’?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As he said that, a hand landed on her shoulder. She tensed up, feeling a sense of both fear and disgust as he attempted to offer her a ‘massage’.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stomped on his foot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Screeching in a high-pitched voice in pure agony, he ripped his foot back out from under her heel and hopped further away from her. She grinned in satisfaction.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, practice over!” he attempted to call, but his voice was merely a wheeze. He blew the whistle, catching everyone’s attention. “You can all go now!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aww, but we were about to score a goal!” she heard one of them complain, but honestly, she couldn’t care less. She wanted to get the hell out of there.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!” At least Mac’s voice was there to calm her down. “How was I out there?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“As great as always,” she replied.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve never seen me play before, so I don’t know how much of a compliment that is.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather rolled her eyes. “You were great,” she said, patting her shoulder. “Now, you gonna go get changed?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nah, I’ll get changed when I’m home!” she said, picking up her bag. “Unless you don’t want my outfit touching your car.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather was about to tell her yes, she absolutely didn’t want that. Her soccer outfit contrasted to her cheerleading one, in that it was dirty, ragged, and had sweat stains.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But also, it looked kinda good on her. Or, really good. It was tight, showed off her figure, exposed her muscular calves and… she wasn’t sure what it was, but she really liked how ruffled and messy she looked. Granted, she had liked this look on boys before, so long as she already found them attractive. Here was no exception.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You can… but if you leave any stains, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you’re</span>
  </em>
  <span> cleaning them up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s fair.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Heathers!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather let out a frustrated groan, before turning around to see two soccer players running towards them. They were coming at a fast pace, so she was surprised when they stopped a few feet in front of her, so surprised that she stumbled back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Jesus, what?” She tried to compose herself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We heard your date with Kurt and Ram was a bust,” one of them said. “So we were wondering if-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked confused. “Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We don’t want to waste our time with any more of you,” she hissed, maybe a little too aggressively. Honestly, she just wanted to leave. “None of you are worth the effort.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather!” Mac stepped forward and placed a hand on her arm. She didn’t mean for it to jolt away. When it did, she was given a concerned look by Mac. “Hey, these guys are alright! This is Hale.” She gestured to the taller guy, whom she had just snapped at. He gave her a timid wave. “Oh, and that’s Indigo, but we all call him Diego.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raised a brow at him. “Who named their kid </span>
  <em>
    <span>Indigo?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego shrugged. “My mom wanted something different.”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Different is right.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Anyway,” Hale spoke again. “We weren’t asking you on a date! I was just going to ask how you were. They giving you any trouble lately?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, of course they haven’t. We told them to fuck off, and they did.” She narrowed her gaze. “Why?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hale grimaced. “Well… so you know the phrase ‘locker room talk’? Yeah, uh… they’ve been doing </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather’s expression twisted in disgust for a moment, not wanting to think about the things they </span>
  <em>
    <span>wish</span>
  </em>
  <span> had happened that night, but then she took a deep breath and relaxed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let them fool themselves with their pitiful fantasies. Like I care.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure? They’ve been saying some pretty… vulgar things-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, let me guess. Sword fight in our mouths or something?” She scoffed when he nodded. “Trust me, it’s nothing new from those two.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You sure it doesn’t bother you?” Diego asked. Heather let out a cackle. She wasn’t sure how genuine it was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>, when they realise that girls in fact </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> into guys spreading rumours about what sex positions they may or may not tried with them, they’ll be all out of viagra pills to get their shrivelled old dick back up. It’ll be the ultimate karma.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Diego let out a laugh. “Gross, I don’t wanna think about them as lonely, horny old men.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hale scratched his head, still a little uncertain. “You sure you don’t want us to say anything if they speak up.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh! Say if that really did happen, we had better rinsed our mouths,” Mac said with a laugh. “Thoroughly.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Will do.” Hale gave a thumbs up. “Anyway, I won’t keep you any longer. See you later, Heather!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, bye, Heather!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two of them waved, before rushing off past them, almost bumping Heather’s arm. She jumped back to get out of there way, and it was then that she felt a hand pick up her own. She looked down, and saw Mac was moving her hand away from her skirt, and in glancing at her other hand, she saw that one was still digging its nails into the patterned fabric.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Since when was I-</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are you okay, Cherry? You seemed a little nervous,” Mac said with concern. Heather blinked at her for a moment, before shaking it off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I’m fine. Just impatient.” She dragged her away, towards the parking lot. “Come on, I’m starved.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She caught the suspicious look Mac gave her before they continued their journey, but she quickly let it go, hoping she’d do the same.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their journey back to Mac’s house was quick, and once they were indoors, Heather threw a pizza in the oven before following Mac upstairs. Kicking off her heels, she threw herself onto the bed, letting herself sink into the soft mattress while Mac busied herself with getting changed into comfortable clothes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Rough day?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, just glad the week is </span>
  <em>
    <span>over</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She let out a long groan. “Come cuddle me?” She raised her hands in the air and made grabby-hand gestures. Mac giggled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I should jump in the shower first,” she said. “Unless you wanna smell of sweat and dirt.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Chandler whined, but didn’t protest. She instead glimpsed at Mac as she stripped down to just a towel, and gave a smirk as she eyed her up and down.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Or you could wait here,” she suggested. Mac snickered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Flattering, but I don’t wanna get mud on you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Harumph.” Heather pouted, slumping back against the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll be right back. Um…” She paused at the door. “Will you be okay on your own?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She raised a brow suspiciously. “Why wouldn’t I be…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, just because you were a bit… on edge before,” she said. “So I didn’t want to leave you if-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather, I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>fine</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Just drop it.” She rolled her eyes and dismissed her with a gesture. Mac slowly nodded, before leaving.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She wasn’t sure what had gotten her so worried, but regardless, she spent little time thinking about it, and instead tried to occupy herself with things in her room. The only problem being, she’d seen her room a dozen times before, so nothing on display was new. Only two minutes had gone by and she was already incredibly bored.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Call her invasive, but her next idea was to lean over the edge of the bed and pull out the drawers from underneath. Usually she wouldn’t, but there had never been any boundaries between her and Mac, so she knew that she wouldn’t particularly mind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first draw was full of some magazines. She quickly scanned through them, not spending too much time reading the covers. Some were playboy, which made her impishly grin to herself. Others were some LGBT magazines, from what she could gather. Oh well, nothing interesting to her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She went through the second drawer. Old paintings. She’d seen most of them already, though some of them seemed unfamiliar. She took a moment to observe each of them. There were various things, such as a sunflower, a forest, space… she wondered how new and how old some of them were.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She moved onto the third drawer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>...She will question where Mac got all of these sex toys from later. And also ask her what all of them do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then she opened the forth drawer. Just a drawer full of textbooks, nothing too interesting. A book about dinosaurs, one about prehistoric mammals, one about psychology. Only, the one about psychology had… bookmarks?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Who the fuck bookmarks a textbook?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Nevermind the fact that she knows Mac doesn’t like to read for more than a few minutes at a time, and she mainly just flicks through textbooks to look at the pictures and </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> read the annotations. Curiosity overtook her, and she picked the book up and slumped back onto the bed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Each bookmark was a different colour. Well, there was a green one, two yellow ones and a pink one. Hm. Either this was colour coding, or Mac just ran out of the same colour. Or she was just being unorganised.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She decided to open it up to the one closest to the front - the green one.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Bulimia Nervosa.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She blinked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Excuse me?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she opened the book up more, a slip of paper dropped onto her chest. She picked it up, and did her best to read Mac’s rough handwriting.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>From what she could gather, it was a list. A list of things such as </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘don’t let her eat alone’</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘occupy her if she’s eating a whole meal’</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It didn’t take more than two of her brain cells to figure out that they were instructions on how to act around Heather Duke and her eating habits.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Wait… so she put green for Heather…</span>
  </em>
  <span> She stared at the other colours suspiciously. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hmm.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She flicked to the first yellow bookmark.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The Autism Spectrum.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She shot up into a sitting position, staring at the next bookmark. Pink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Couldn’t find any red highlighter colours, huh?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Her lip curled at the book as she slowly turned the pages.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She stared at it for a moment. Then continued to stare at it. Then kept on staring at it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>WHAT THE FUCK!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>On cue, heavy footsteps came fumbling into the room. Mac barged through the door and slammed it shut, pressing the towel against her so it wouldn’t drop. Clearly she ran out at the sound of her yelling, with how she was still dripping wet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? What’s wrong?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather said nothing, instead just turning to glare at her, the book on perfect display in front of where she sat. Mac glanced back and forth between her and the page, looking as if she were found guilty for murder.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uhh…” She bit her lip. “Why were you going through my drawers?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I always go through your stuff,” Heather grumbled. “Better question, why is this page </span>
  <em>
    <span>presumably</span>
  </em>
  <span> bookmarked for </span>
  <em>
    <span>me?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She shoved the book closer to her, and Mac slowly walked towards it, grimacing guiltily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I didn’t mean for you to see it yet.” She released her hair from the towel, revealing her wet, almost straight hair. “Maybe next time… don’t go through my things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve never minded me going through your things before! Stop changing the subject.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do when you find things you weren’t meant to see!” Mac grabbed the book and held it against her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather, have you been </span>
  <em>
    <span>analysing</span>
  </em>
  <span> me?” she questioned furiously. Mac bit the inside of her cheek.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I could just tell something was up,” she confessed, her voice meek. “I was trying to figure out what it could have been. I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> if it’s PTSD, but… it might be? But I’m still going through the book, so it could be something el-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mac, I already </span>
  <em>
    <span>know!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Heather said. “I already found out from JD that I have PTSD, okay? I’m not mad about that.” She frowned. “Well, I </span>
  <em>
    <span>am</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t want to have it. But you haven’t made some profound discovery about me, is what I’m saying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mac blinked at her in surprise. “You know? From JD? Since when?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather bit her lip and sighed in defeat. “Don’t you </span>
  <em>
    <span>dare</span>
  </em>
  <span> tell anyone I interacted with that walking hunk of tar, but after our heist, I asked him a few… questions.” She twiddled her thumbs together. “I… have a lot of symptoms that match.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like what?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Flashbacks - the obvious one - bad memory, and come to think of it, there are a lot of chunks of my memory missing that only happened in the past year…” She swallowed dryly. “Mood swings, nightmares… the list goes on.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh. I see.” Mac looked down at the book, then sat down on the bed, not too far from her. “Then… what’s gotten you upset?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because you… you’ve just been observing my behaviour!” she snapped. “Are my PTSD symptoms really that obvious? Were you just sticking pins on a wall and connecting them all with red yarn? What fucking gives?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather, I’m sorry!” Mac protested. “I only figured it out a few days ago!” She placed the book in between them both. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re not the only one who I do this with. I do it with all of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why doesn’t Veronica get a bookmark? She has anxiety!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t have any blue sticky notes!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Right.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather, I don’t do this for any of you. This is all for me!” she explained. Heather raised a brow.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Meaning…?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… I don’t want to do anything wrong.” She sighed, shuffling a little closer to give her a serious stare. “Heather, you know very well I don’t pick up signals very well. If someone acts out of the ordinary… for example, if you’re having a mood swing, like you said, I won’t be able to pick up what’s wrong! I won’t be able to tell if it’s something </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> did, or if it’s because of that.” She flicked back through to Duke’s page. “And for Heather. I made these notes for her to remind myself I need to act differently in certain situations. These things are hard for me to just </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you know. I do it for me, and I do it so I can help </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She closed the book.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to know how to help. But if I don’t know what’s causing you to act in a certain way, I risk making it worse.” She offered an apologetic look. “I’m sorry I kinda… observed you from a distance. But I wasn’t sure how to walk up to you and say, ‘hey Heather, you ever heard of PTSD? Because I think you have it.’”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The anger Heather felt began to fade, and she finally relaxed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay, fine,” she said in a softer tone. “Sorry for snooping through your things.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s okay. You’re right in that I usually don’t mind.” She chuckled lightly. “But uh… are you sure you have PTSD?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather shrugged. “I don’t see what else it could be. I feel like JD and I’s symptoms are identical.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How do you feel about it?” Mac moved the book out of the way and moved closer, brushing shoulders with her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Not good,” she grumbled, unbuttoning her blazer to get ready to toss it onto the floor. It was getting tight. “I feel like I now have a constant reminder of what happened, rather than just being able to move on. Both figuratively and literally, with the flashbacks and nightmares and all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As she spoke, a savoury, slightly burned smell hit her nostrils, and seemed to hit Mac’s too.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh yeah, we put a pizza in the oven,” Heather said dryly. “Hope it isn’t on fire.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll go get it,” Mac said with a smile. “We can talk about this when I come back up, okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather didn’t exactly want to continue the conversation, but she knew that refusing to do so would only make Mac upset.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I’ve been hiding too much from her.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She slumped back on the bed, kicking the book further away from her. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If I keep doing this, she’ll only get more concerned for me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Soon after Mac had thrown some comfortable PJs on and darted out her room, Mac returned with a plate full of sliced pizza. Good, finally something to lighten the mood. Mac placed the plate between them on the bed, and Heather quickly sat back up and grabbed the first slice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a little burned,” Mac said. Heather shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Since when has burned food ever bothered me?” She took a bite. It was still a little too hot, but she continued chewing anyway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So… how are you coping with it?” Mac asked. Heather paused, swallowing her food.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Coping with what? My PTSD?” She shrugged. “Am I meant to be coping with it? Because I don’t know what I can do at this point.” She ripped another bite of pizza off with her teeth. “Other than just living with it, of course.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But… there </span>
  <em>
    <span>are</span>
  </em>
  <span> ways to deal with it,” Mac said. “Have you considered doing what Heather’s doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The very thought made Heather’s heart sink into a pit of dread.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean go to </span>
  <em>
    <span>therapy?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Hell no!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mac blinked at her in confusion. “Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mac, isn’t it obvious?” She laughed. “The first thing her doctor did was tell her parents. You seriously think I’m gonna let them do the same to me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mac frowned. “Heather, they were required to do that because her health was in danger. They may not do it with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tch. I’m not taking my chances.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather, I don’t want this to hurt you!” Mac said. “If you don’t know how to cope with this, it’s going to hurt you in the long run!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what </span>
  <em>
    <span>else</span>
  </em>
  <span> hurt me in the long run? My </span>
  <em>
    <span>parents!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she snapped, dropping her half-eaten pizza slice. “They already can’t stand me! They already think I’m a failure in school, a failure daughter, a failure in pretty much </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything!</span>
  </em>
  <span> As soon as they realised I couldn’t even read, they lost all hope!” She scraped her nails through her hair, grunting in frustration. “They didn’t want to bother teaching me how to read. They didn’t bother teaching me how to use music sheets when playing the piano. They didn’t bother helping me with my fucking homework! They just said, </span>
  <em>
    <span>learn how to do it yourself, Heather, that’s how the world works!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She picked up another slice and bit into it heatedly.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And you know what? </span>
  <em>
    <span>I did!</span>
  </em>
  <span> I finished entire books, far beyond my reading level. All I had to do was listen to an audio reading while doing it! And I don’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>need</span>
  </em>
  <span> sheet music to play the piano, I can do it by </span>
  <em>
    <span>ear!</span>
  </em>
  <span> But guess what happened when I showed them I did it, that I figured it out all by myself, that I did </span>
  <em>
    <span>exactly</span>
  </em>
  <span> what they said?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Um…” Mac looked down at her hands.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s right. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nothing.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She stared at her, a pang of hurt in her chest. “So why the hell I was so surprised when they did nothing about me being hurt, about me being </span>
  <em>
    <span>raped</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I have no idea. That’s just their way of doing things. And it… it really </span>
  <em>
    <span>hurts</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” Tears welled up in her eyes, and while she didn’t let them fall, she didn’t wipe them away either. She simply let them sit there, free to fester. “They already view me as a burden - that’s why they never bothered helping, why they were never </span>
  <em>
    <span>proud</span>
  </em>
  <span> of me. They didn’t view me doing what I said as an achievement, they view it as the bare minimum. It was never something to be rewarded.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather…” Mac tried to reach out a hand to console her, but Heather moved away. She wasn’t done.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Look… if they couldn’t handle a child with dyslexia, they definitely can’t handle a child with PTSD. Well… I say child, but I’m almost an adult.” She sighed, feeling… empty. “If they found out, they would at best, not even acknowledge it. At worst, they’d ridicule me for it, and I have a feeling it would be the latter.” She scratched the back of her neck. “Because I’ve already let them down so many times, and now I have </span>
  <em>
    <span>this?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Look at all the </span>
  <em>
    <span>strain</span>
  </em>
  <span> you're putting on your family, Heather, why did you have to do this to yourself?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But you didn’t do this! </span>
  <em>
    <span>They</span>
  </em>
  <span> did!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Technically, they didn’t-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They played a </span>
  <em>
    <span>role</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Heather, so they should fix it!” Mac’s gaze darkened. “And even if they didn’t… they should fix it anyway. They’re your parents, that’s what they signed up for.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“They didn’t mean to sign up for it. You know that already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And my mother didn’t sign up for an autistic child, but you still think she should have been better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I do.” Heather sighed. “Hun, I’m not trying to say my parents were right to do what they did. I know how much they hurt me… but I don’t have a choice, okay?” She bit her slice of pizza again. “I’m doing what I’ve always done, and that’s dealing with this on my own. I can’t risk them getting involved. I can’t stand the idea of them telling me that I should have been more careful that night. I can’t bear the thought of being dragged into a sermon so I can be told that it’s all part of God’s plan.” Her voice grew into a hiss slipping through gritted teeth. “Because I can’t handle hearing all that again! Maybe it’s because I still haven’t shaken it all off from </span>
  <em>
    <span>last</span>
  </em>
  <span> time!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mac paused, putting her pizza slice down. “Heather, what are you saying?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m saying I… I can’t shake off the idea that this is all just </span>
  <em>
    <span>karma!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she cried, huddling her knees close.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Karma?” Mac echoed in disbelief. “Karma from what? What could have possibly caused such a horrible thing to happen to you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather gazed at her remorsefully for a few long, awfully dragged out seconds.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know… leaving you at that party could be up there with the reasons,” she mumbled, her voice almost imperceptible. Regardless, Mac heard it loud and clear, and immediately she grabbed her shoulders and shot her a stern glare.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather,” she began, her voice low. “I’ve told you, that wasn’t your fault.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know that,” she muttered. “But that doesn’t help shake the feeling that </span>
  <em>
    <span>maybe</span>
  </em>
  <span> it was.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather… this is what I mean,” she murmured. “I really think you should talk to someone about this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“And risk making things worse? </span>
  <em>
    <span>No.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She turned away. “I did everything else on my own. I taught myself how to read, how to sign, how to play instruments. I can handle this by myself too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She glanced back at Mac, who still looked incredibly doubtful. She rolled her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mac, I’m going to be fine, honest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mac just frowned. “Okay… but if this doesn’t work out… if you get worse… you have to promise me to consider telling someone.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“By telling ‘someone’, who counts? What if I just tell Heather about it?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean a professional.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I know, I’m kidding.” She snickered. “And fine, if it’ll make you stop worrying.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It will.” Mac smiled, letting her go and sitting back down. “And please, please try to remember that you did nothing to deserve this. If karma’s real, it would have plenty of different targets.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather sighed. “Alright.” </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m starting to see what JD meant about being more convinced that he was telling the truth when</span>
  </em>
  <span> he</span>
  <em>
    <span> said all this stuff.</span>
  </em>
  <span> She picked up her slice again.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I just wish I could get all of this through my dumb little head.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No matter her worries that were still left over, because that was the end of the conversation. Heather didn’t want to discuss it anymore, and was quick to bring up another topic. They found themselves laughing about today’s earlier events, with Veronica being absolutely </span>
  <em>
    <span>terrible</span>
  </em>
  <span> at flirting, and the two of them wondering how they ended up with the most useless romantic, and for Mac, the most oblivious romantic they had ever met. It was a good distraction, Heather found.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I wonder what they’re doing on their date?” Heather pondered with amusement. “Do you think Veronica remembered to book the table?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Are they going on a dinner date?” Mac asked. Heather shrugged.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dunno, forgot to ask.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I can’t wait to hear all about it!” she giggled excitedly, kicking her feet and waving her hands. Heather smiled at her reaction, sneaking an arm around her. She pulled her close. It earned her a surprised little squeak.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah, I’m sure they’ll make a great couple,” she said. “But I came here to hang out with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mac grinned, wolfing down her last pizza crust. “That’s very sweet of you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah. And you know what else would have been sweet?” She lowered her voice and leaned in closer, lips inches apart from hers. “If that pizza had some pineapple toppings on it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shove.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Never say that in my house again,” Mac barked, slamming the empty plate on her nightstand, whilst glaring down at her. Heather, having been pushed onto her back, could only stare back up at her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What? You’ve never even tried it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Because it sounds disgusting!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Does not. It’s sweet on top of savoury.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s the problem! You </span>
  <em>
    <span>know</span>
  </em>
  <span> I don’t like mixing sweet and savoury foods!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you’re still wrong. Hawaiian pizza is good.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thwack!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ow!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is what you deserve,” Mac said, staring down at her with a pillow in her grip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But all I did was-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Thwack!</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather tried to move to avoid the next hit, but found that Mac had straddled her, and there wasn’t really a way for her to escape her strong thighs.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Heather!” she protested, covering her face as the pillow came down again. “No!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sorry it has to be this way,” Mac said, continuing to beat her with the pillow. As much as Heather tried to stay serious, she couldn’t help but burst into laughter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, you’re hitting your own girlfriend!” she cackled, trying to bat away the pillow. “Fiance, even.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t think proposing to you when I was eight counts!” Mac said, giving her one last hit with a pillow before flinging it aside. Feeling hot and ruffled, Heather took a moment to catch her breath, though she had little time to do so before Mac curled up on top of her, nuzzling into her neck and giggling. Heather felt herself grow warm; no matter how affectionate she’d been with her in the past, knowing there was some genuine romantic love involved with her actions now just made her all the more flustered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But if you really want to call me your wife that much, you’re free to do so,” Mac added, glimpsing up at her with a teasing glint in her eye. Heather snorted at the notion.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve been dating for… what, a couple of weeks?” She rolled her eyes. “At least least I’ve been dating Veronica for…” Her eyes widened in surprise. “It’s the 26th… we’ve been dating for a month! And a day!” She gasped, covering her mouth, “Oh no, I didn’t even realise!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I missed our one month anniversary.” She pouted. “I’m such a forgetful bitch.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I… didn’t think you were one to celebrate </span>
  <em>
    <span>month</span>
  </em>
  <span>-iversaries.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather bit the inside of her cheek sheepishly. “...Not with non-serious relationships, no.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cherry, that’s adorable.” She planted a kiss right on her nose, and that along with the nickname just made her blush harder. “I had no idea how much of a romantic you were.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she argued. “I don’t bother with romance. Since when have you seen me actually put effort into a romantic relationship? Or even be interested in </span>
  <em>
    <span>pursuing</span>
  </em>
  <span> someone romantically, for that matter. You know, other than you and Veronica.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just because you don’t have many romantic feelings for people doesn’t mean you’re not a hopeless romantic,” she said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> a hopeless romantic. Have you ever seen me celebrate Valentine’s day? Stomping on a bunch of nobody’s flower bouquets and throwing their pitiful Valentine’s cards in the trash or a fire doesn’t count.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a feeling this year will be different,” Mac snickered. Heather just scoffed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Prepare to be disappointed,” she said. “Though, if you and the others organise a Valentine’s date, you’re absolutely inviting me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course I will!” she said, planting a kiss on her cheek. Heather smiled, pulling her closer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“In the meantime,” she said. “How about you explain to me why you have all those sex toys?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Mac paused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t you rather me explain to you what most of them do?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather bit her lip.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...That too.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell are you two doing here?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The light was flicked on, and the two of them were in clear view.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh…” Veronica stammered, already feeling incredibly cornered. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, God. What if he saw what we were doing?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We were just leaving,” Heather said, a little more boldly than Veronica could currently be. “Now if you’ll excuse us-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather actually dared to step forward to try and get him to step aside, but he refused. Instead, he stayed in the doorway, blocking their only escape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t think I’d see either of you back here,” he commented, eyeing the pair up and down. “You’re actually showing your faces around here again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At the very least, Veronica didn’t feel all that intimidated. Maybe it was the fact that she’d been the one brave enough to threaten to push him off a building, or perhaps it was his checkered, grimey-looking pajama bottoms and ragged shirt that made him look terribly non-threatening, but either way, she didn’t feel in danger. It was more the fact that they’d been caught in the act.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There isn’t even a party tonight. What are you both doing sneaking around?” He gazed at them suspiciously. Veronica and Heather exchanged a panicked look, before Heather spoke up.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“None of your business what we do here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Ah.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, I see.” He rolled his eyes and sniggered condescendingly. “Couldn’t keep yourself away, huh?” While his tone was flirtatious, there was a very audible underlying bitterness in it, especially when he looked at Veronica.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Either way, none of us want business with you,” she spat, also stepping forward. “But we’re done here, so if you could let us through-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You seriously think I’m gonna just let you two walk out?” he suddenly sneered, stepping towards them both. They both jolted away. “I wasn’t done with either of you that night. Especially </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” He glared ferociously at Veronica. Heather, however, just laughed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Then why’d you leave in such a hurry?” she cackled. “Doesn’t seem like the smartest thing to do.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Clearly he was trying to remain frightening in some way, but Veronica could clearly see the embarrassment threatening to break through on his expression. His mouth hung open as he tried to come up with a reply, but nothing came. Eventually, he just growled, grabbing Heather by the shirt. Veronica’s fists immediately clenched, ready to throw punches when needed, but at least Heather seemed calm enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Listen, pint-size. You and your friends have caused me enough trouble already. I’ve fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> it with you lot.” He stepped closer, pushing Heather backwards. Her back touched the counter. “I could fuck you up right now, and no one would do shit about it. I doubt you have anyone coming to rescue you this time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather’s face wrinkled into a snarl. “We don’t need anyone coming to rescue us, you good-for-nothing pervert.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>David opened his mouth to speak again, but was cut off by muffled laughter from the floor above. And by muffled laughter, Veronica would more accurately call it wild </span>
  <em>
    <span>howling</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ugh, freshmen,” David muttered, rolling his eyes and unknowingly looking back down at Heather. Her and Veronica, on the other hand, had already clicked on, and were trying to hold back their laughter. He looked at them both, confused.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s so funny?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh, you’re in for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>tough year</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Heather laughed, managing to slither out his grip while he stood there, puzzled.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell are you talking about?” he snapped. Heather and Veronica didn’t need to come up with a response, however. The sound of many footsteps making their way down the stairs was loud enough for them all to hear, and almost sounded as though a storm was moving through the building. Though, that was a good way of describing what was to come.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yo, David, you awake?” someone yelled from further up the corridor. “Just thought it would be a good time to remind you to wear a diaper before you go to sleep!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Watching the expression on David’s face morph from intimidating to a look of pure horror was oh-so satisfying for Veronica to watch.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You want us to buy you new pants at all?” another voice called. David grew even more terrified, and Heather and Veronica simply exchanged a smirk, as well as a self-rewarding high-five.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Their plan had worked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell?” he hissed under his breath, having noticed their smug expressions. “What did you two </span>
  <em>
    <span>do?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica snickered. “Oh, nothing much. Though, maybe you should take a look at the new decor around here, that might have something to do with it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>While Veronica was tempted to open up a cabinet and show him the photo, she knew the first thing he’d do is find as many as he could and rip them up, so she settled with the knowledge that he would absolutely get the photo shoved in his face over and over again by the other students here.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, found him!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The three of them all looked to the kitchen door, where a student poked his head in and began to laugh.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell?” David growled. “Get back on your own floor.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he in there?” someone called from behind the guy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We found him!” another called.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“There isn’t a toilet in the kitchen, dude!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>David tried desperately to keep his composure, but he was quickly falling apart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what you’re-” he tried to speak, but was interrupted by a loud crowd chant from outside. Wow, an actual crowd, huh?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit your pants! Shit your pants!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my God,” Heather wheezed, covering her mouth to stop herself from laughing. “This is better than I could have ever imagined.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Our job here seems to be done,” Veronica said, biting back her giggles as she watched David attempt to escape the kitchen, his face beet-red and palms glistening from embarrassed sweat, pushing past the laughing teens to desperately escape to his dorm room. When he finally squeezed through the crowd, while having to endure ‘shit your pants’ being yelled in his ear over and over again, the crowd followed him further down the hall, leaving room for Veronica and Heather to make their escape.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, let’s go,” Heather said. Veronica pouted.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aww, but I wanna see how this plays out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s best we’re not spotted lurking around here, and I doubt we’ll miss anything much better than this.” She hurried out the kitchen and glanced down the corridor, Veronica following behind.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They watched as the crowd moved as if it were one entity, letting themselves be amused for a few moments, before finally turning around and making their leave. They passed a couple of confused, tired and irritated looking students poking their heads out their dorm rooms to get a look at the commotion, and it satisfied Veronica knowing they’d find out very soon. If the photos in the kitchen didn’t do their job, the photos left elsewhere would definitely be spread around enough for them to find out.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were both quick to escape the building, running down the stairs and speed walking back through the lobby and finally outside. Though, Veronica may or may not have “accidentally” dropped the few spare photos they had on the stairs on their way out. Whoops.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When they made it back to the car, laughter was tumbling from their mouths, and adrenaline only made them more loopy. Eventually they managed to buckle themselves in, and Heather started up the car.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Holy shit, he’s gonna have such a rough time,” Veronica cackled, looking up at the building, only able to imagine the humiliation he was being put through now. “Can’t wait until Heather finds out.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d prefer we didn’t tell her,” Heather warned. “I’d rather she find out via Westerburg.” She hummed thoughtfully as she gazed up at the building. “It’s not exactly the kind of justice I’d wish upon him, but hey, it’s misery nonetheless,” she then said proudly. “Though, if another opportunity such as this arose, I’d be willing to come back here to do this shit all over again, ironically enough.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know what? Me too,” Veronica chuckled. “As much as I hate it here… doing all of this with you was really fun.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather offered a smile in return.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah… not an ideal date, but I thought it was pretty fun.” She began to drive away from the building, and Veronica didn’t even bother to watch it shrink in the rear view mirror, her gaze too fixated on Heather as she focused on the road ahead.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>And only when she found herself lost in those brilliant green eyes of hers, did she realise that their date was </span>
  <em>
    <span>over</span>
  </em>
  <span>. She felt a sudden pang of disappointment, wishing tonight could be much longer than it had been.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Unless…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, uh…” She caught Heather’s attention. “So um, if you wanna go home now, that’s fine be me and all, but I was wondering if you… wanted to stay for the night?” She sheepishly averted her gaze. “At my house, I mean.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a moment’s silence, she glimpsed back at Heather hopefully, who gave a snicker.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why not? So long as you have some spare PJs at the ready.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica’s heart lit up, and for the rest of their journey back, they’d laugh about this evening, while occasionally talking about their own girlfriends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s funny, actually,” Heather said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What’s funny?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I haven’t been on a date with Emmy yet,” she said. “But we’re not together, and yet I’ve been on a date with you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica thought for a moment. “Huh… same here, with both of them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ve been dating Heather for a month! How have you not gone on a date yet?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve hung out together! But I can’t say we’ve gone on an actual </span>
  <em>
    <span>date</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you know?” She shrugged. “I wasn’t really sure she’d be the type of person to like dates.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather let out a laugh. “Are you kidding? She’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span> bringing romance novels to our old reading sessions and gushing about them.” She rolled her eyes. “Sure, it’s been a while, but I don’t think her taste in books or movies has changed at all. She just never found someone she thought was very romantically interesting. Until you, of course. And Heather.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica smiled to herself. “Well then, I guess I should arrange something, huh?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes, and do it in spite of her protests,” she instructed. “She doesn’t like to be seen as sappy, but she secretly loves it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks for the tip,” she said, before looking out the window. “Oh! We’re here already.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They pulled up outside her house, hopped out the car and quietly stepped inside, not wanting to disturb her parents with loud door slams and whatnot, though she did alert them of her and Heather’s presence before leading her up to the bedroom.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm…” She searched through her pile of old clothes, looking for something she could sleep in. “I have this shirt?” She tossed a long-sleeved, oversized faded turquoise shirt. “Not sure what pants I have lying around, though. I prefer to sleep in boxers.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather held it over herself and shrugged. “It covers a large portion of me, it’s fine. Now, I’m gonna go get changed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, me too.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather left to get changed in the bathroom, whilst Veronica quickly threw her own clothes off to replace them with less attractive, but more a comfortable shirt and boxers combo. Soon after, Heather returned to find Veronica already comfortable in her bed, the duvet unfolded from the spot next to her. When Heather settled right there and threw the blanket over her, Veronica couldn’t be more happy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, what are you writing?” Heather asked, peeking over her shoulder. Veronica felt herself blush as she turned her diary away from her.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No looking!” she said. “I’m just writing about today.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather batted her lashes at her. “Aw, you writing about me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica bit her lip. It had been the </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> thing she’d written about.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...Maybe.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How flattering, I should leave you to it.” Heather placed her hands on her lap and stopped hovering, letting Veronica place the diary in front of her again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“But I’m not going to,” Heather then added, before snatching the diary right from her grip. Veronica gasped as Heather bolted across the bed, landing on her stomach as Veronica scrambled after her. Heather managed to keep the book away from her as Veronica desperately tried to grab it, while having to listen to Heather read out her most recent and still unfinished passage.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Dear diary,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she began after clearing her throat. “I have no idea how to describe today! It has just been so wild, so many great things have happened! My date with Heather was </span>
  <em>
    <span>beyoooond</span>
  </em>
  <span> amazing, it wasn’t exactly a date you’d fantasise about, but oh, I had </span>
  <em>
    <span>sooo</span>
  </em>
  <span> much fun! Heather’s just so funny and smart and honestly it’s no surprise I’m hopelessly in love with her-”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t write that part!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-And I would love to go on another date sometime! Perhaps many, many more-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re adding things that aren’t there.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“-And who knows, perhaps I’ll be able to ask her to be my girlfriend. But oh, I do hope she’s into me, I have no idea if she is.” Heather rolled her eyes. “It’s not like she said yes to going on a date with me, willingly kissed me on that date and agreed to stay the night or anything.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t write that part either- oh.” She stopped her struggling, rolling off of her. “I see where you're going with this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean, sure she was pretty unsure about all of this first, and maybe she doesn’t really know where all this vague attraction is gonna go, but hey, this could probably work out, right? Who ever knows where any relationship is gonna go. A month ago she didn’t even realise she was a lesbian, and now look at her.” She looked back at her with a fairly calm gaze. “So sure, maybe she wants to carry on dating you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica felt her heart skip several beats at once, and an overwhelming sense of joy filled her to the brink. She was so distracted by that overwhelming sense of enthrallment, she didn’t notice Heather flicking all the way back through her diary until she spoke again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“September 1st, 1989.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica paused and looked as Heather snickered at her diary entry.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Heather! You can’t just make me all flustered and happy and then read through my-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Damn, Veronica, you could make a fucking song out of this. You got real into this, huh?” Heather laughed as she flicked the page over. “Uhh… why does this page just say </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘whhhhyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy’</span>
  </em>
  <span> over and over again?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Lunch was rough that day,” Veronica mumbled, before reaching over and finally snatching it off of her, closing it, and placing it under her stomach as she lay back down. “But back on track! Do you really wanna keep going out with me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather giggled. “I didn’t say all that just to tear your hopes down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I dunno. Knowing you, you could have.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“How rude.” She then let out a long yawn.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We can try and sleep if you want,” Veronica suggested. “If you were gonna sleep in the spare bedroom, though, I’d have to set up all the duvets and such.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather snorted dismissively.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’ve slept in the same bed before, we can do it again, especially now we’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>dating</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” She got up and crawled back to the top of the bed and settled under the duvet. “So long as I don’t think about how you and Heather have fucked here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The sheets have been washed several times since then.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She watched as Heather sank into her pillow and curled up in a tight ball. Veronica hadn’t cared enough to notice last time, but now she could see that Heather held onto the duvet when lying down, which was more adorable than it should have been.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you can sleep, but I’m gonna stay up for a little bit, if that’s okay?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Heather shrugged. “Do what you want.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Veronica smiled and got back under the duvet, grabbed her diary and pen, and continued to write.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Or, she tried. She was about to write more about her day, about how their plan had been successful, even though Veronica wished she’d served a punch to his face before she left. But no matter, a black eye would heal, his reputation as the college guy who shit his pants at a frat party absolutely would not, even if he were to leave and never come back.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>However, when she placed the pen nib on the page, her eyes ended up drifting back to Heather. Her eyes had closed and her shoulders were rising and falling ever so gently. A very light snoring sound could be heard in the silence of her room, and Veronica couldn’t bring herself to tear her gaze away. After trying to return to her diary several times, she eventually gave up and placed it on her nightstand. Sliding further into the duvet, she turned off the lamp and left her room in complete darkness, other than a little bit of light slipping through her curtains.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She settled beside Heather, using that light to get one last look at her face, now bare of makeup, and grinning stupidly to herself. She was </span>
  <em>
    <span>dating</span>
  </em>
  <span> her. She could wake up the next morning, knowing she had yet another girlfriend to kiss and to hold.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For now, though, she was perfectly content snuggling close to her, similar to how they had once done so, only now Veronica felt perfectly free to wrap her arms around her and hold her close. She felt Heather shift a little, though only to lay on her chest comfortably, while Veronica let her chin rest on her head. Was her head pressed against her headboard because of it? Yes. But that didn’t matter.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What mattered was that she was so comfortable, so content, that she fell asleep quicker than she had done for a long, long time.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe it was because she was that excited to wake up again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>listen, when i write toilet humor it's okay because it's at the expense of a r*pist.</p>
<p>lmao posted this a day early bc quarantine got me like: nothing to do</p>
<p>will heather chandler ever learn healthy coping mechanisms ?? probably, but she's not doing that yet.</p>
<p>comments are very much appreciated, and stay safe everyone !!!</p>
<p>https://heathersgameoftag.tumblr.com/</p></blockquote></div></div>
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